The Flight of a Yellow Butterfly
by westernmelody
Summary: Team Seven faces one of the most challenging crisis as JD is shot by an unknown assailant that causes irreversible damage. As Chris, Buck and the others struggle to keep JD alive and find out who hurt him, JD faces a crisis of his own, whether or not to fight for his life.
1. Chapter 1

**THE FLIGHT OF A YELLOW BUTTERFLY**

It's funny how things quickly coalesce into one thing – like the blue sky – did I ever know how blue it really is? Turning into one circle of blue with a brilliant white cloud shaped like a pirate ship –

I didn't even know I was dreaming of pirates. Pirates are nasty; not like the comic movies, they ambush and hurt . . . Did I think that? Ambush and hurt . . . leave you bleeding looking up into a sky that never before seemed so perfect . . .

And somehow even the warmth of the red blood dripping from my body seems to blend with the warmth of the sun.

She's looking down at me and reaching out her arms and her eyes – they all say I have her eyes, which is strange because they have never seen her except for pictures – and her eyes were the most beautiful in the world. I guess I inherited her long, dark lashes – girl's lashes, the boys in Boston would taunt me about – although I heard my lashes were the envy of all the girls and they seemed to find them sexy . . . Sexy? Cute! Cute! That is the word I always heard associated with me amid giggles, he is sooooo cute, look at that raven hair and milky white skin. . .and some girls would turn my looks into a poem, how silly is that? guess I should feel flattered . . .

Sexy? Me? The one the girls in school seemed to love to pat on the head like a little boy, which I guess, I always looked like. At 16, they thought I was _twelve_. It probably didn't help that as well as the youngest-looking and the smallest boy in my classes, I was one of the smartest, which meant I was always two to three grades ahead of the others. At times, I sometimes wished I was dumb or at least had the sense to play dumb then I would be in grades where the kids, ahhh, girls would be closer to my age and maybe not want to just pat me on the head . . . wait am I now sounding like Buck . . .

So why am I thinking I missed an opportunity?

I didn't really. Me, still the youngest, still the smallest, and STILL THE CUTEST according to the office staff who recently voted me that (according to Buck if he can be trusted on this) I am still part of Chris Larabee's ATF, or MSATF, the Magnificent Seven ATF. If it wouldn't hurt, I just might pinch myself to make sure that is true and not part of a dream, I am starting to feel real fuzzy right now and maybe the blue sky is turning a bit gray . . .

A small itch on my arm rouses me and makes me jump, Did I fall asleep? Or maybe pass out would be more apropos, Ha! An Ezra word, and wouldn't it just be my luck to get bitten by a spider, no wait a red ant determined to rob me of my peaceful dozing . . . I'll bet Buck had something to do with it and whispered to the ant to wake me up, wake him up, I'm coming, JD! Hang on! And suddenly the lump in my throat grows to the size of a grapefruit and the tears I have held back sting my lashes. Mom seems so close and yet so far, beckoning, reaching down to reassure me with her beautiful smile that it's all right to come home now, come home, baby, I've missed you and I want to feel her arms around me as she holds me so close it's like she'll never let me go, Mama, Mama!

Fight, JD, fight! Where did that thought come from?

Maybe I should fight or just lay here, stunned, just like the day Justin Oliver, so big he could make up three of me, hit me so hard it knocked me on my butt and my ears rang – I knew at that moment how it felt to get your bell rung – just because Laura Owens dared to smile at me. I wanted to fight, but couldn't get my body to coöperate and that how it feels now, my body is in charge and it just wants me to let go, drift off on a pirate's vessel in the English Channel . . English Channel? But floating towards the Emerald Isle, Ireland, just like I always wanted to visit Ireland, to thank it for giving me the milky white skin that is always easily sunburned like it probably is now . . .

A yellow butterfly catches my attention as it flies and hovers around and around like a protector, do you think Buck could change into a yellow butterfly, Buck? And a semi-hysterical giggle parts my dry lips, because the butterfly won't go away – not that I want it to and lands on my nose, its wings tickling and making me giggle until I realize the giggling (crap, like a girl) hurts! And stop giggling long enough to hiccup out another sob.

It won't be long now. Somehow there is comfort in that thought, and as the butterfly keeps me company by hovering, a bird, an eagle maybe, but that is wishful thinking, I love eagles, soars among the clouds, what do birds see where they fly high and I'm Irish, is there really a pot of gold beyond the rainbow and will I find out before I . . . before I . . .

I wish, I wish there was someone here to soothe me, talk to me, maybe fight like I can't seem to fight anymore, but the chances of that . . . I can't remember why, why I don't think they will find me . . . there must be some reason, but I can no longer think of it and now but the team is not called the Magnificent Seven for nothing and I can trust them with my life and it seems I have to now . . .

Yellow butterfly. Like your favorite color of dress, Mama, you would glow like sunshine when you wore it and twirled and twirled, are you the butterfly, Mama? Hovering over me to watch over me. . . Mama, Mama, I'm scared, Mama! I don't want to be brave now, I just want them to coddle and comfort me like they always do, especially Buck, you know Mama they love me almost as much as you did and it will hurt them to find me here knowing they couldn't save me and why can't I stop thinking and wondering if it is possible I will look any whiter in the coffin than I am now, can I get any whiter?

Please, little butterfly, stay here, but I can do without the red ant or it is two crawling on my arm, you just try to sting me again and Vin can shoot you off my arm without disturbing a hair on my arm, that's how good Vin is, Vin! Vin! Please help me, Vin! Another . . . hiccup . . . sob. You're such a big baby, JD. Catch Chris crying like this . . . or Ezra, Ezra can you teach me your poker face? I think, I think that may be partly why I am here now, the pirates caught the astonishment on my face, Ezra, I couldn't bluff them like you and they made me walk the plank . . walk the plank. . . . Josiah, is there really a time allotted to die? Do you have a choice? I know people die young, but I really wanted to reach my 21st birthday and see if you six still call me kid, card me, who am I fooling of course they'll still do it if I am here . . . but will I be here, Nathan? Come soon, Nathan, I promise to do anything you tell me . . . Nate . . . Nate . . .

Chris, do you ever regret hiring me? Did I ever let you down? Of course I did, just a stupid kid, I can almost see the exasperation in your face when you're wanting to spank me like a little kid and yet be sensitive to the fact I am just so young . . .

Everyone thinks you never hold back, just explode, but I know, I know, I could see it in your eyes, a secret I may take to my . . . my grave . . . and why can I see a man in black standing at a grave and sobbing . . . no, it hurts too much to think of Buck . . . Buck . . . all the women will want to console him, Buck . . . calling me "lil bro", whispering to me the last time he thought they might lose me, "I always wanted a little brother, Kid, and you're the only one who could ever fit the bill, Shortstuff," and other terms of endearments I can't say in front of you, Mama, they may not sound nice, but it means he cares, Mama, he loves me and I love him . . . and Mama, don't be mad, I don't wanna leave, I don't wanna . . .

Shhhh, baby. Shhhh, it's okay, Mama's here. The wind whispered softly, caressing the boy's pale cheeks.

Mama? And the yellow butterfly morphed into a dark-haired, smiling woman reaching out her arms, and the tormenting thoughts faded as quietly as the dark-haired boy lying on the grass . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Buck felt his chest constrict and his eyes met Chris' as the six men scattered around the empty house in a lot overgrown with weeds and neglect. The assignment was supposed to be routine . . . safe . . . routine . . . but the rapid beating of Buck's heart told him different. JD's bike was there, a tipster had spotted it, and the house held signs of a struggle and drops of blood but JD was nowhere to be found.

After tearing around the house, the six, without speaking scattered in all directions, hearts pounding and ears hearing the breathless word HURRY!

Not needing words, running, but the desolate fields were overgrown with grass and weeds and nothing could be spotted, especially the youngest agent.

"Buck!" Nathan yelled, seeing the big man falter and stop. "Tipster said this way!"

Buck still hesitated, not knowing what had stopped him, listening for the silent whisper in the wind. He turned away from Nathan's voice and saw from the corner of his eye a shadow of a woman beckoning and he turned at once to follow. At the top of a nearby hill, he hesitated again and then was drawn to two yellow butterflies circling and circling around a grassy area. Again, Buck automatically ran to the area, heart pounding as he spotted the still form of his roommate. The Kid was lying peacefully on his back, so still that Buck's heart seemed to stop as he dropped to his knees, cradling JD, his kid, and both murmuring words of comfort and stroking the dark hair, checking for any movement by the boy.

Suddenly, all the rest were there, Nathan with his medical kit, checking JD for a weak pulse while the others held their collective breath as they took in the red blood dripping from JD's right side. Nathan didn't hesitate, barking orders, holding a rag to stop the bleeding, using water to dampen JD's lips and stroking his throat to aid in swallowing.

"He's so hot," Buck moaned, stroking the dark hair ritualistically as well as clinging to JD's left hand as he held JD's head in his lap.

"Ambulance?" Chris queried fearfully.

"No time," Nathan answered sharply. "Vin, get the van, I'm going to start an IV, Josiah, you pick JD up, and . . ."

"I'll do it," and Buck lifted and cradled his teammate tenderly while Nathan expertly started the IV and Vin raced as never before and screeched up with the van before the others could tell he was gone. Buck held JD in the back as Chris and Josiah helped by holding the IV in place and Vin and Ezra collaborated on the fastest way to the hospital. Vin called ahead to the ER. Nathan worked using the cold water of the men's bottles to bring JD's temperature down but the young man had not once stirred despite Buck's continued pleading.

Chris could tell by Nathan's eyes the fight was not going to be easy, but the set of Nathan's jaw showed the determination to not lose JD.

"How did this happen?" Ezra snapped, alarmed by the kid's paleness and non-responsiveness.

"Not now, Ezra," Chris warned. Buck was losing it, Josiah's eyes closed often as his lips moved in prayer, and the ride to the hospital seemed eternal. Finally, the hospital came into view and the ER doors burst open as medics took the precious load from Buck's arms.

Six shaken men watched the flurried activity and shouted instructions among the doctors and nurses as JD was wheeled into the examining room. Nathan had recognized Dr. Morales and followed him to the examining room. The other five paced in the waiting room.

"He was so pale . . .

"JD's always pale . . ."

"He was burning up . . ."

"It's a hot day . . ."

"All that blood. . ."

"They'll give him more. . ."

"The bullet . . ."

"Morales'll take care of it. He's the best surgeon around."

"I felt a lump on the back of his head . . ."

"Concussion, probably."

And finally, an explosion from Buck, "WHO DID THIS TO HIM? WHO?"

No one could answer, and Buck slumped into a nearby chair, arms covering his face.

Four hours later, after a delicate surgery to remove the bullet, Nathan came to the waiting room, watching five pairs of eyes lock on him as he staggered to the nearest chair. "JD's alive, but it was touch and go. They got the bullet, but he lost so much blood. . . they had to give him three units . . ." Nathan wiped his sweaty brow. "The blow to his head . . . he was out in the heat, dehydrated . . . he's not waking up."

"Nate," Buck begged for reassurance.

Nathan looked squarely into the anguished man's blue eyes. "I don't know, Buck. I do know that any longer and he'd not have a chance. We came within a few minutes of losing him."

Dr. Morales appeared in the doorway and motioned to Nathan. Five men stood in dread. Though they could not hear the conversation, they noticed the slight slump in Nathan's form. Five men sucked in their breath.

Nathan walked over, his gait that of an eighty-year-old man. No one, not even Buck could mouth the question.

"JD's still alive," Nathan said quietly, wiping his brow.

"That's good, right?" Vin queried, and then immediately felt stupid for asking the question.

"What aren't you saying, Nate?" Chris demanded.

"The bullet – it damaged his right kidney. Destroyed it." Nathan stated flatly.

This time it was Ezra who asked, "Everyone has two kidneys, Mr. Jackson. Tragic as it is, JD can live with one."

Nathan turned to look from Ezra, to Vin, Josiah, Chris and finally Buck. "Not JD. His left kidney is deformed. His right was the only normal one. And now it's gone."


End file.
